


Impose

by AKO



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-28 19:25:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKO/pseuds/AKO
Summary: Ever wonder how they originally got together?I have TOS in my head when I write these stories, but they can also work for Abramsverse.





	1. Illuminate

Computer, locate Mister Spock.”

 

“Commander Spock is in Laboratory Three.”

 

“Sulu, you have the conn.”

 

Kirk took quick strides to the turbolift.  As the doors closed, he said, “Science Section.”  The car began a zig-zag path through the ship, and deposited him in the corridor leading to the laboratories.  Lab Three was at the opposite end of the hallway.  Not for the first time, Kirk wondered what knothead had decreed the numbering system to be essentially backward.

 

Entering the complex, Kirk noted it was empty of people and only had minimal lighting.  That didn’t make sense; there were supposed to be ongoing viral incubations in Lab Three at all times.  He frowned and cocked his head, trying to locate the muffled sounds that seemed to echo from everywhere.

 

It took a little bit of searching, and he finally saw a lean pair of legs coming out of a cabinet near the incubator pods.  He crouched down next to the legs.  “Problems, Spock?”

 

A bit of squirming, some very un-Vulcan grunts, and Spock finally emerged.  His tunic and black undershirt were bunched up under his arms, and Kirk got a nice view of abdominals contracting before Spock tugged the shirts in place.  “Captain.  I’ve traced all the circuitry, and I believe a small chip in the back here is responsible for the failure of the entire incubation system controls.”

 

“Why is it the busted part is always in the corner, in the dark, in the back?”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Never mind, Mister Spock.  Need any help?”

 

“Actually, Sir, I was going to find an illumination tool, since I do not have the appropriate one for my purposes here.”

 

“What kind do you want?”

 

“I desire a self-adhesive fiberoptic light source, since I need both hands to access the faulty chip.”

 

“I can hold a light, Spock.  I’m that good.  Just show me where you need it.”

 

The two of them entered the cabinet, Spock again on his back, and Kirk crawling in on all fours.  Belly down, Kirk had to keep adjusting the light until Spock was happy with the assistance.  “So this little chip has deadlined the entire lab?” Kirk asked.

 

Spock’s long elegant fingers seemed to twist in impossible directions as he felt around the circuitry.  “Yes.  Without the incubation pods functioning, the samples expired.  The staff is cleaning out the failed cultures, and requisitioning new supplies from the Quartermaster.”

 

“Doesn’t sound pleasant.”

 

“Spoiled culture media is quite…nasty, as my people have reported to me.”

 

Kirk looked away from the circuitry, since he really didn’t know what was what.  In the diffused lighting of the cabinet interior, he watched the play of shadows on Spock’s face and allowed himself to just gaze.

 

“I have secured the chip.”

 

Spock’s eyes refocused from the circuitry to the inside of the cabinet, and discovered Kirk staring at him.  All time stopped.

 

Then Kirk leaned over, and covered Spock’s mouth with his own.  The two of them found that moving lips, teeth, and tongue, tasting, biting, licking, sucking, inhaling, exhaling, all swirled together to create a transporter of sorts, and they swooped and soared and floated through the universe.

 

Spock abruptly pulled away, and scowled.  He jerked himself out of the cabinet.  Kirk was so startled, he moved upward, and immediately slammed the back of his head against the inner framework.  “Shit!” he growled, scraping his back while extricating himself.  He sat upright on the floor, his legs splayed and he rubbed the bruise on his scalp.

 

Spock had straightened up to full height, and yanked down his tunic.  With hands folded neatly behind his back, he glared down his nose.  “If you intend to impose yourself upon me, Captain, you should have the courtesy to do so without smelling like another.  I do not play ‘second fiddle.’  I sit first chair, or not at all.”  Without waiting for a reply, Spock turned on his heel and left.

 

Kirk closed his eyes while he continued to soothe his bumped head.  “Huh?”


	2. Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More intrigue?

Kirk sat spraddle-legged on the lab floor, next to the opened cabinet.  He felt the swelling under his hand from the knot on the back of his head, and his brain was still scrambled a bit.  The head blow wasn’t the cause of the confusion, though.  He was still trying to normalize his breathing from the soul-sucking kiss he’d just shared with Spock.

 

Well, he was also puzzling over Spock’s remark of violins and others and what?

 

_What_ had just happened?

 

Leave Bridge—go to lab—crawl in cabinet with Spock—hold light—curl toes with kiss.  Oh, Jesus, who would know that Spock could kiss like  _that?_

The brain cells began to function again, and Kirk mentally replayed Spock’s exit speech.  “Smelling like another.”  What?  Kirk hadn’t touched another person in centuries, ever since he began to yearn for his First Officer.  Why have hamburger when you can have steak, a 20th century actor had said when confronted with a possible infidelity.  Of course, Spock being a vegetarian, he couldn’t compare him to steak.

 

Damn, that blow to the head must have been harder than he realized!  Think, Kirk, think!

 

“Computer, locate Mister Spock.”

 

“Commander Spock is in his quarters.”

 

Kirk stood, shook off the slight dizziness, and rushed to the turbolift.  Once he reached Deck Five, he stomped to Spock’s cabin and stood in front of the door.  He reached up to sound the chime, and said, “Screw that.”  He straightened his shoulders and thrust his chin forward slightly.  “Computer, Captain override.  Open the door.”

 

Spock was sitting at his desk watching computer code scroll on the monitor.  As Kirk entered, he stood, locked his hands behind his back, and stared over Kirk’s shoulder.  “Captain.”

 

Kirk took two steps to the desk.  “Spock.”

 

“I am attempting to reprogram the faulty chip.  If it cannot be salvaged, I will obtain a replacement, and the incubators should be online by the end of beta shift.”

 

“Piss on the incubators.”

 

“Captain?”

 

“Look at me, dammit!”  Two pair of eyes locked on each other.  “What happened?”

 

“I believe I explained myself completely, Captain.”

 

“No.  No, you didn’t.”

 

Spock’s eyes became phaser beams, boring into Kirk’s brain.  “I know you.  I know all the scents you produce: when you are angry, when you are frightened, when you are physically active, when you are ill, when you are injured.  I can identify your apocrine and eccrine secretions and differentiate them from any other  _Enterprise_ crewmember.  I am familiar with every single personal product you utilize.  I know when you change brands of dentifrice or beard suppressor.  I recognize the foods you eat and the drinks you consume from the way your body metabolizes them.  I know you.”

 

“Okay.  And?”

 

“Today, while we…kissed, I detected a different odor, one I have never associated with you, ever.  It is more commonly affiliated with female personnel.  You are known to juggle intimacies, and I do not wish to be simply another conquest.”

 

Kirk reached out a hand to grasp Spock’s arm.  “Spock, no…”

 

“Captain, I request that you leave.”

 

“Spock, please…”

 

“Leave, Sir.  Now.”

 

Kirk’s shoulders slumped, and he swiveled 180 degrees, to face the door.  “You’re wrong, Spock.  You’re throwing something away far more precious than you’ll ever know.  And you’re wrong.”

 

Kirk stepped out, and as the door shut behind him, Spock dropped ungracefully onto his desk chair.

 

Had he been in error?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where do we go from here?
> 
> (wherever it is, we'll have chocolate!)


	3. Trace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting good!

Think, Jim,  _think!_   Where have you been today?  Where have you been since your last  _shower?_

 

Last shower was in the gym.

 

The doors to the turbolift swept open, and Kirk hurried towards the locker room.  He stood in front of his assigned space, and grabbed the handle of the door above his.  “Computer, access 1B13, Captain override.”  He felt the lock click under his fingertips, and yanked.

 

“Surprise shakedown, Sir?”

 

Kirk must have jumped a foot.  “Scare a man half to death sneaking up on him, Ensign Feely.”

 

“It’s FEENY, Sir.  I didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

“Never mind.  Uh, yes, I’m just doing a…spot check.  No big deal.”

 

“Yes, Captain.  If you need any assistance, please let me know.”

 

Kirk was going to need a pacemaker or a heart transplant, the way his pulse rate was jumping all over the place, lately!  He rifled through the locker contents, and found no personal care products.  There was no evidence of spillage, either.

 

A quick check of the other surrounding lockers also revealed nothing.  On a whim, he tried the locker diagonal from his.  As soon as the door was cracked, he began gagging.  Then he started coughing.

 

The Recreational Services Officer ran into the room again, and started, “Do you need….What in blazes is that horrible smell?”

 

All Kirk could do was point.  Both of them used the bottom of their tunics to cover their lower faces, and they stumbled into the next room.

 

“Seal off that area and get HazMat in there!”

 

“Yes, Sir, immediately.  Do you know the locker number?”

 

Kirk tried to stop retching.  “1B10.”

 

Feeny turned red, which was a nice contrasting color to the green he already showed from the stench.  “Eil’opt transferred six months ago.  I guess the locker wasn’t cleared.”

 

Kirk pulled down his tunic, stood ramrod straight, and became 100% authority figure.  “Obviously, Ensign.  Make sure Eil’opt transferred and didn’t crawl in there and die.”

 

“Yes, Captain.  Immediately, Sir.”

 

Spock, meanwhile, was on the Bridge.  With datapadd and stylus, he was slowly making the rounds of all stations, eyes searching, examining, seeking.  The crew was absolutely petrified, but knew the best tactic was to say nothing, and keep working.

 

They tried to work, anyway.  For not only was Mister Spock looking, he apparently was…sniffing, as well.  It would have been funny because it was so completely out of character for the Commander.  And he was doing it surreptitiously.  But more than one person swore before the entire Mess Hall that Spock was  _inhaling_ as he passed by each individual.

 

Mister Spock had doubts.  He never would confess such to any living being, and he barely admitted it to himself, but he wondered if he were  _wrong_ about Jim.  Uh, the Captain.

 

Kirk was a very tactile person.  He touched, he patted, he consoled, he encouraged, he embraced, he hugged his crew.  No one seemed to mind the invasion of personal space; in fact, just the opposite.  People performed better with Kirk’s “hands on” approach.

 

Even Spock.

 

Forensic science had proved centuries ago that trace evidence was easily transferred from one object to another.  It was feasible that a personal cosmetic had transferred from a female crewmember to the Captain through one of his common platonic interactions.

 

Spock just needed to  _find_ the subject aroma, and deduce the method of transfer.

 

“Computer, locate the Captain.”

 

“Captain Kirk is in Engineering.”

 

Spock was finished with the Bridge.  “Mister Sulu, you have the conn.”

 

He walked into the turbolift and directed it to the Officers’ quarters.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the ride!
> 
> (with chocolate, of course!)


	4. Unobtainable

Spock entered his quarters and picked up the computer chip from his desk.  He hadn’t yet fixed the coding on it, but he wanted it in his hand when he visited the lab again.  He couldn’t explain even to himself why.

 

He was having a lot of trouble lately explaining many things to himself.

 

His eyes wandered around the room to the bathroom door.

 

He was Vulcan, his eyes never wandered.  He admitted to himself: he looked at the bathroom door.  The door to the bathroom he shared with the Captain.  He squared his shoulders and stepped into the small room.  And he mortified himself by sniffing each and every container of personal care products within the four walls.

 

No smell matched the odor he had detected that morning.

 

Clutching the chip tightly in his fist, Spock headed to Laboratory Three.

 

Kirk left a puzzled Scotty in Engineering, after asking him about “any new lubricants, solvents or adhesives” being used on the  _Enterprise._   Now he was going to Maintenance, to inquire as to the use of new cleaning products, paints, or polishing compounds.

 

He felt like an idiot.  Granted, a  _righteous_  idiot, but an idiot all the same.

 

“Yes, Captain, we might possibly have new cleaning products aboard the ship.  But everything we use has to conform to Fleet standards, so even if there is a new purveyor, it’s technically the same stuff.”

 

“Do you have some sort of record, or list, of the new products?”

 

“Sure.  That’s all in the computer, and managed by the Quartermaster.  They keep the standards of the products on file, too.  God bless the computer!”

 

Kirk’s next stop was the Quartermaster, and yes, they’d be delighted to furnish the captain with the listing of all materiel used in the maintenance and operation of the ship!  Oh, the file size was probably too lengthy to send to the captain’s datapadd, so it will be directed to the computer the captain has in his quarters.  Yes, there is a search function, only items brought aboard in the last month?  Sure, no problem!  And you click on the individual item, you’ll get a listing of ingredients and where the product is used on the  _Enterprise._

Spock returned to the laboratory where all the turmoil of the day began.  The place was still empty, of course, because the incubators were not functional.  There was no one there to see Mister Spock get on his hands and knees and crawl under the cabinet on the same side where Captain Kirk had been that morning.  There were no witnesses to testify that he sniffed the interior, top to bottom, left to right, back to front.  And after completing his strange inspection, he did it yet again.

 

The illusive smell wasn’t there.

 

He went to the Quartermaster to requisition a new computer chip.

 

Kirk was in his quarters, downloading the file from the Quartermaster.  He became irritated at the time it was taking to complete the task, and then he looked at the size of the file.  His eyeballs nearly popped out of his head.

 

And yes, this was the abbreviated file that contained just the items consumed this past month.

 

His head hurt.

 

His heart was breaking.

 

And then he got mad.

 

“Computer, locate Mister Spock.”

 

“Commander Spock is in his quarters.”

 

Kirk was so pissed off, he stormed through the bathroom and came charging into Spock’s cabin.  In the three and a half years they’d been serving together, the two of them had always respected each other’s privacy and had never used the bathroom as an access.  Reason, courtesy, privacy were all incinerated in Kirk’s white hot fury.

 

“Damn you, Spock!”

 

“Captain?”

 

Kirk stood in front of Spock’s desk, where he was programming the new chip.  Kirk slapped his hands on the desktop and leaned over, so they were practically nose to nose.  “I said, damn you!”  He then stood up and turned away to pace.  “I’ve been chasing wild geese all morning, trying to find out what I could possibly have encountered that you smelled on me.  It sure as Hell wasn’t another ‘sexual conquest,’ because I haven’t  _been_ with anyone in months.  Eighteen months, to be exact.  I haven’t touched, kissed, caressed, fondled, and I certainly haven’t  _fucked_  anyone, male or female, in eighteen months, eighteen long, lonely, achingly empty months.”  At this point, Kirk turned back to Spock, hands on hips, and glared.  “Why?  Because I have been obsessed: mind, heart, and especially libido with one, unobtainable person.”  He made three slow, perfect steps to stand in front of Spock.  “You.”

 

Then he walked back over to the bathroom door.  Over his shoulder, he said, “Take your sanctimonious, judgmental attitude and stick it up your ass next to that durasteel rebar you have wedged in there.”

 

Kirk exited through the bathroom, and Spock stared at his computer monitor, seeing nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virtual Oreos for all!


	5. Disorder

Kirk stood in his quarters, head pounding, and thought, “ _Now_  what?”  He had just placed his heart, his  _feelings,_ like an offering on a pagan altar, in front of Spock.

 

GAHHHH.  He wanted to curl up and die.  With his luck, though, he’d take this damned headache with him into the Hereafter for all eternity.

 

“Bridge to Captain Kirk.”

 

He hit the toggle on the intercom a little bit harder than necessary.  “Kirk here.”

 

“Sir, Personnel Services reports a crewmember missing, Maintenance has declared the Men’s locker room Off Limits until further notice, the Intramural teams want to know how soon they can reschedule the volleyball tournament, and Science is complaining because Laboratory Three is still out of service.”

 

Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose.  This headache wasn’t getting any better.  “Lieutenant,  _really_ , those are all matters which are handled by the First Officer.”

 

“Yes, Sir, I know, but Mister Spock has signed himself off duty for personal reasons.”

 

Shit.

 

“Fine.  I’m on my way, Bridge.  Kirk out.”

 

Kirk stormed to the turbolift, flipping the bird at Spock’s door on the way.

 

Spock kept staring at the computer screen, but was unable to assimilate the data provided by Captain Kirk.  The information was of such magnitude, his internal chronometer ceased functioning, and he lost track of time.  He was startled to awaken from the fugue state to find that twenty minutes had passed while he had accomplished exactly nothing.

 

This was  _not_  logical!

 

He focused himself and resumed programming of the replacement chip.  When he finished, he left for the lab.

 

While Spock was crawling into a nice, quiet cabinet, Kirk was tantrumming on the Bridge.  A Hazmat technician-trainee used a tricorder on the stinking goo in locker 1B10, determined it to be organic remains, and then immediately slapped the place under forensic investigation seal.

 

The volleyball teams were ready to take up arms, because the winners of the playoffs would be entered into pre-Olympic qualifications at Starbase Six during their next stop.

 

Science was bitching because the viral samples were not stable in stasis, and they needed to be cultured ASAP.

 

“Captain, Quartermaster says their inventories are off ever since the tech did the search function on their records for you.  QM thinks maybe the file was accidentally corrupted.”

 

“Lieutenant, contact Sickbay and request something for my headache please!”

 

“Yes, Captain, right away, Sir!”

 

Spock had forgotten to bring a self-adhesive fiberoptic light source.  Of course, this only became evident after he had scooted on his back under the cabinet and removed the circuitry blocking the access to where the chip needed to be installed.  He reasoned that his eidetic memory was sufficient to permit him to install the chip by feel, so he really didn’t need the light.

 

He was in error.

 

He managed to get his hand convoluted enough to put the new chip in place, but then he couldn’t extricate it from there.

 

A Vulcan will patiently explain that frustration is an emotion, and as such, it isn’t experienced by Vulcans.

 

This is also an error.

 

Frustration plus superior strength equals wrenching movements that can pop out adjacent circuitry panels, and also do considerable damage to flesh.  The panels were easily snapped in, but when Spock exited from the cabinet, he observed a hanging hunk of meat from his hand accompanied by a steady green dribble of blood.

 

Clearly, this day was not progressing in an orderly manner.

 

Spock had drilled his people many times in the proper way to handle industrial accidents.  All personnel knew the locations of first aid kits, and Spock always emphasized the necessity of completing accident report forms and notification of supervisors and the Safety Office.

 

Mister Spock was very emphatic on protocol.  For others.  Right now, he needed to get the incubators online.  He ripped off the hem of his black undershirt and wrapped his hand to stem the bleeding.  Then he booted up the operation software of the lab and verified the new chip was functioning correctly and the incubators were now working.

 

McCoy entered the Bridge looking like a thunderstorm ready to tear loose.  “What is going on in this nut house?  I’ve got my Sickbay computer flashing and beeping with a priority forensic investigation, demanding a medical examiner report to the Recreation Deck!”

 

Kirk scrubbed his face with one hand, and the doctor could see the eyesquint and furrowed brow of a migraine on the Captain.  “I found a stinking mess in one of the lockers, and apparently that crewmember is missing.  The locker was never checked back in to Recreation Services.”

 

“Who?”  McCoy already had the hypo at the ready, and Kirk hurt so bad he wasn’t going to give the usual complaints.

 

“Eil’opt.”

 

“How long have you had this headache?”

 

“Started this morning.”

 

“Eil’opt went AWOL months ago.  Personnel is the one who told me, so somebody isn’t doing all the proper paperwork.”

 

“Doesn’t explain the rotting organics in his locker, though.”

 

“Ehhh.  He was on that crazy body-building diet that was making the rounds, the one where you’re supposed to eat boiled eggs after exercising.”

 

The entire Bridge crew made disgusting faces at the thought of rotting boiled eggs sitting in a locker for months.

 

“As CMO, I’m officially placing you off duty for the rest of the day.  This bullshit you’re wranging will keep until tomorrow.  Even those damned eggs.”

 

“Mister Sulu, you have the conn.  And Bones, I never thought I’d say this, but  _thank you_ for the hypo and the off work status.”

 

“Get outta here.”

 

Spock carefully stepped around the puddles of green and headed for his quarters.  The wound was just a scrape and he could clean it up, apply a nu-skin plaster, don another uniform, then report back to duty.

 

Spock didn’t notice the trail of green dribbles that followed behind him as he walked.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sprinkling chocolate chips over everybody*


	6. Locate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting complicated!

Kirk stumbled down the corridor towards his quarters.  The headache had just about done him in, and his entire focus in Life was to find his bunk and collapse while the medication did its magic.

 

Walking slowly towards him, Spock was becoming exhausted.  The dribbling from his hand remained constant, and the wound was beginning to hurt.  He concluded that today was definitely not a productive day.

 

Kirk looked up as he arrived in front of his door, and saw Spock standing before his own cabin.  “Go away, Spock.  I don’t want to look at you, I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want anything to do with you.”

 

Spock was startled back to the conversation they had earlier.  “Captain…Jim…”

 

“I said, NO, Spock!”  Kirk entered his quarters.

 

Spock walked through his door, and headed for the common bathroom.  He walked through it, and looked at Kirk.  “Jim, wait…”

 

“Not  _now._ ”  Kirk turned around and headed back to the corridor.  Spock followed him.  “Commander, do I have to  _order you_  to leave me alone?”  Kirk re-entered his quarters, and Spock went back to his cabin.

 

“Security to Sickbay.”

 

“McCoy here.”

 

“Doctor, I’m following a trail of green drips that began in Laboratory Three and have led me to Deck Five.  Sir, it really looks like Vulcan blood.”

 

“On my way.  McCoy out.”

 

The back-and-forth, chase-and-avoid between Kirk and Spock continued, although the two individuals were slowing down dramatically.  Kirk was getting dopey from the medication, and Spock was growing weaker from the blood loss.

 

McCoy met with the security officer in the corridor.  “You see what I mean, Doctor.”

 

“It’s blood.”  He shook his head.  “Computer, locate Captain Kirk and Commander Spock.”

 

“Captain Kirk is in his quarters.”

 

“Correction: Captain Kirk is in the shared fresher.”

 

“Correction: Captain Kirk is in Commander Spock’s quarters.”

 

“Correction: Captain Kirk and Commander Spock are both in the shared fresher.”

 

“Oh, God help us all.  Computer, lock all doors in both quarters of Captain Kirk and Commander Spock, Medical Emergency Authorization. No override except McCoy.”

 

“Acknowledged.”

 

“Sickbay, one antigrav stretcher and one field medical kit to Deck Five, Captain’s quarters.  Stat.”

 

“Sickbay acknowledged.  Out.”

 

Inside the bathroom, Kirk and Spock were both trying to get out.

 

“Computer, open this door, Captain’s override.”

 

“Denied.”

 

“Computer, open doors, First Officer’s authorization.”

 

“Denied.”

 

“Spock, what is going on?”

 

“I cannot explain, Captain.”

 

“Spock, you’re bleeding.”

 

“It is a minor abrasion.”

 

“No, you’re  _bleeding._   Look at the puddle you’re standing in.”

 

“It does appear that…Captain?”

 

Kirk had fainted, and smashed his face onto the counter edge on his way to the floor.

 

“Computer open all doors previously locked by Medical Emergency Authorization, McCoy override.”

 

“Acknowledged.”

 

Kirk’s facial injury had smeared blood all over the counter and down the front of the cabinet.  A pool of red gradually swirled together with the puddle of green.  Spock was sitting on the commode looking unfocused.

 

“Jesus Christ, what is going on in here?”  McCoy did a quick exam of the two, and called for more help and an additional antigrav stretcher.

 

In Sickbay, he put them on adjacent biobeds in the ICU.  He had an inkling that when both men regained their wits, there would be a lot of loud “discussion.”

 

The doctor intended on being the loudest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate cheesecake for everyone!


	7. Spog

"Where ab I?”  Kirk couldn’t breathe through his nose.  He’d had a busted nose before (more than once), and the feeling was familiar.  A quick glance around made him grimace.  “Dab.  Sigpay.”

 

His muttering penetrated the fog of the patient in the adjacent biobed.  He, too, determined he was in Sickbay.  His hand was throbbing and immobilized in a splint, and he could see the IV running into his arm.  A quick reconnoiter showed Kirk to be next to him, and conscious.

 

“Captain.”

 

Kirk looked over his shoulder and saw Spock.  “Fug.  I don wanna dalk to you, Spog.”  He made a show of scooting to the edge of the biobed furthest from his neighbor.

 

“Then I shall speak, Captain.”

 

Kirk flipped him off.

 

“I was in error.”

 

“Wha?”

 

“I made a mistake.   I was wrong.”

 

“I’b dobed ub or you are.”

 

“I am sincere, Captain….Jim…I was wrong.”

 

“Where’s Bodes?  He deeds to hear this.”

 

“Jim…I have searched the ship.  I cannot find that aberrant scent anywhere.”

 

“Fug off, Spog.  I’b nod dalging to you.”

 

A young woman walked into the room, rubbing her hands.  “Oh, good, everybody’s awake now.  Good afternoon, Captain, Commander.  I need to transfer the biobed data into your records.  It will just take a moment.”

 

“Ensign.”

 

“Yes, Commander?”

 

“What substance are you rubbing on your hands?”

 

She smiled brightly, in that spooky, health-care-provider grimace.  “Sanitizer, Sir.”

 

“Would you bring me a sample of it, please?”

 

“Leave the boor lady alone, Spog.  She’s jus’ doing her job.”

 

“Ensign.  A sample, please.”

 

“Commander, we have pre-warmed cleansing cloths for the patients, if you need …”

 

“No, Ensign.  I’m interested in  _that_  particular product.”

 

The smile was replaced with a bewildered look, and she glanced at Kirk.  He shrugged his shoulder in reply.

 

“Yes, Sir.”  She left and returned with a pill cup filled with a clear gel.  “Here, Commander.”

 

Spock took the cup and sniffed.  “Is this the usual product decanted here in Sickbay?”

 

“Commander, there are dispensers all over, we all use it.  Let me get you the Inventory Technician, maybe?”

 

“That would be satisfactory.”

 

The woman vanished from the room, never to be seen again.

 

“You derrified her, Spog.”

 

“Jim,  _this is the scent.”_

 

Kirk rolled away, and pulled the pillow over his head.

 

“Commander Spock, I’m Lieutenant Iverson.  I’m in charge of Inventory, how may I help you?”

 

“I want to know about the hand sanitizer you have here.”

 

“It’s Fleet Sickbay Protocol to have hand sanitizer available in multiple places throughout the unit.  All caregivers must use it regularly, and patients are encouraged to use it.  Studies have shown the use lowers transmission of nosocomial diseases by 95%.”

 

“I am not questioning the use of the sanitizer, Lieutenant.  I wish to know about the particular product in use.”

 

“It meets all Fleet standards, Commander.”

 

Kirk groaned and pulled the pillow tighter around his head.

 

“Most assuredly, those who oversee the contracts will be gladdened with that information.  This  _particular_ formulation, this brand, if you will—when was it first distributed in Sickbay?”

 

“Oh!  Now I understand!  Funny you should ask that, Commander.  We just got this shipment, and it’s a different purveyor than we have been using.  Everyone likes it!  The other stuff smelled like kerosene, and this stuff is nice!”

 

“Thank you, Lieutenant.  That will be all.”

 

Iverson left, a puzzled look on his face.

 

“You came to Sickbay this morning, Captain.”

 

“Shud ub, Spog.”

 

“You used the hand sanitizer.”

 

“Id has a moisdurider in id.  My hands ged chabbed.  When I come visid Bodes, I use id.”

 

“Jim, I was wrong.  I apologize.”

 

Kirk rolled over rapidly and hurled his pillow at Spock, smacking him in the head.  “I hade you.”

 

“At this moment, I hate myself.”

 

“Oh, Spog.”

 

“Do you want your pillow back?”

 

“Please.”

 

Spock returned it with a gentle, underhand toss.  “We can talk after we are discharged from here.”

 

“Afder I ged by doze figged.  I can’t giss with a busded doze.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't fret! There's more!


	8. Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff

Jim Kirk’s nose was finally healed.  Doctor McCoy had castigated him thoroughly, for Kirk had damaged this particular body part numerous times in the past, typically by applying it forcefully to someone’s fist.  The fact that  _this_  incident was not because of a fight diminished the scolding not at all.

 

“This is what the medical field refers to as a  _comminuted fracture._   That means, Pretty Boy, the bone in your nasal septum was  _crushed.  Pulverized._ I couldn’t use the boneknitter on it; I needed a surgical  _spackle_ to glue all the little, bitty pieces together.  Next time you feel the need to impact your face against something hard, turn your head so you hit your skull instead.  That’s thick enough to withstand anything.”

 

“Yes, Mom.”  He gingerly touched the appendage with a finger.  Then he took two deep breaths, inhaling dramatically through his nose.  “It seems to work for breathing purposes.”

 

“Yeah, I did a good job.  After I reassembled the bone, I slathered the interior tissues with a powerful anti-inflammatory gel to get rid of all the swelling.  People have this insane attraction to breathing.”

 

“My nose and I thank you.”

 

“Jim, stay out of trouble, please?”

 

Kirk snapped off a salute as he walked out of Sickbay.

 

After shift, Kirk sat at his desk in his quarters, hands folded, facing his cabin door.  The chime sounded, and he knew it was Spock.  Now that his nose was fully operational, they had a conversation scheduled.  “Enter.”

 

The First Officer stepped inside, and nodded once.  “Captain.”

 

“Have a seat, Mister Spock.”  He waited until Spock sat across from him.  Then he cocked his head to one side and waited.

 

Spock raised one eyebrow.  “Eighteen months?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, eighteen months, no Kirk action anywhere.”

 

“I have been the focus of your interest for a year and a half now?”

 

“Completely, Mister Spock.”

 

“How did this interest in me come about, Captain?”

 

“I guess I just woke up one day and realized, DAMN, I was in love with you!”

 

To anyone else on the ship, or anywhere else in the Universe, Spock’s demeanor did not change.  But to Kirk, the expert Spock-watcher, the First Officer’s face gentled just a tiny, tiny bit.

 

Kirk smiled, but more with his eyes than his lips.  “Don’t tell me this emotion has been only one-sided.”

 

Both eyebrows went up to meet the precision-cut bangs.  “I fail to understand that statement, Captain.”

 

“ _Jim._ ”

 

“I cannot grasp the meaning of your proclamation… _Jim._ ”

 

“Oh, Spock.”  This was said with an exaggerated exhale of breath, and a bit of an eyeroll.  “Explain, then why you  _know_  me so well, you are familiar with the odor of my  _sweat_?   _Really_?”

 

“The duty of a First Officer…”

 

“Nope.  Not buying that, Spock.”

 

Spock blanked all the muscles in his face to his well-known deadpan appearance.  “Very well.  I…care.”

 

“Aha.  Now we’re getting some place.”  Kirk leaned an elbow on the desktop, and rested his chin in his hand.  “How long has this been going on?”

 

“I became aware of the change in my regard towards you approximately 520 Standard days ago.”

 

“What?  No decimal points?  I’m shocked!”

 

“It has been a…gradual…process.”

 

A slow grin spread across Kirk’s face.  “Indeed, Mister Spock.  It seems you have given a lot of thought to this…process.  That was quite a lecture you gave me in Laboratory Three.”

 

“I was…disturbed.”

 

Kirk sat up straight and smacked both hands on the desk surface.  “Bullshit.  You were pissed off, and for no reason!”

 

“Jim.  I was in error.”  Spock actually blushed when he said this.  “I apologized.  I apologize again.”

 

Kirk thought the smear of green across Spock’s cheekbones, and the tint on his eartips was delightful.  “Yeah, well, before you derailed the situation with your tantrum, that  _was_ a helluva kiss inside the cabinet.”

 

The green deepened.  “Agreed.  I found it to be extremely…pleasant.”

 

“Enjoyable?”

 

“Very.”

 

Kirk walked around the desk to stand in front of Spock.  He grabbed the Vulcan’s hand, and pulled him to stand, so they faced each other.  “C’mere.”

 

They both participated equally in a thorough, face-chewing, breath-robbing kiss.

 

“I’m not offering ‘First Chair,’ to you, Mister Spock.  You’re the whole damned orchestra to me.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate truffles covered in pixie dust for the readers!


	9. Cute

When you have an anticipation as long as the one these two experienced— _eighteen months!_ —the emotional buildup is extreme.

 

And don’t give me any argument about Vulcans not having emotions.  They absolutely do, they simply have better controls over the emotions!

 

But let’s face it: sex is damned powerful.  Not even Surak philosophy can keep the lid on that pressure cooker!

 

There was a lot of scrabbling around, clothes-pulling, and twisting and gyrating before they finally reached the bed in a state of mostly-undressed.  When they achieved full-body contact, it didn’t take too much grappling until they both exploded.  At least twice.  Remember,  _eighteen months!_

 

In the sweaty, sticky, sort-of-wiped-up aftermath, it was time for some serious cuddling.  Frankly, they had a lot of cuddling to make up for.  These two had skipped all the typical courtship behaviors—the hand-holding, the shy kisses, the face-rubbing, the quick hugs, the hair stroking.  When lovers begin a relationship, they need the contact, the touching, the tactile ‘memorizing’ of the body of their beloved.

 

Snogging.  Making out.  Necking.

 

Kirk was trying to teach Spock how to kiss.  “You’ve got the basics, oh, believe me, you blew me away with the kiss you returned in the cabinet.  But you also need to know how to have  _fun_  with kissing.”

 

“Fun?”

 

“Yes!  Kissing can be playful, it can be gentle, it can be rough, it can be sloppy, and it’s always fun.”

 

“Demonstrate.”

 

“Gladly!”  Kirk gently leaned toward Spock’s face, and nibbled at his lower lip.  Well, he tried to.  “Loosen up your lips.”

 

“How does one accomplish that?”

 

Kirk sighed.  He leaned back a little bit, and grabbed his own lower lip with his fingertips and wiggled the flesh.  “See?  Loose.”

 

“Ah.”

 

He repositioned himself over Spock’s face and tried again.  Success!  Oh, Halleluia, it was glorious!  The superheated Vulcan mouth was coppery-tasting, and the inside of Spock’s lips and cheeks was like velvet!  Kirk ran his tongue around the outside of Spock’s lower teeth.

 

Spock twisted away.  “That is an interesting sensation.”

 

“Um.  Did you like it?”

 

Spock frowned, and blinked a few times.  “Yes, I did.”

 

“I take it Vulcans don’t kiss much.”

 

A tiny smile crossed Spock’s lips.  He took the first two fingers of his right hand, and slowly began to trace the features on Kirk’s face.  Eyebrows—lower eye socket—nose—around the nostrils—lips, top and bottom—around the chin—up one jawbone, back down to the chin again, up the next jawbone—slowly around the hairline.

 

Kirk was slackjawed and panting .  He grabbed Spock’s face with both hands and sucked Spock’s upper lip into his mouth.  Then he ran his tongue against the roof of Spock’s mouth, to taste the coppery flavors again.

 

Spock turned his chin and captured Kirk’s mouth in a kiss, repeating the same tactic Kirk had used on him, slipping his tongue deep into the human’s mouth to smooth over the roof.  He marveled at the sweet taste he detected.  While he was kissing, he took the same two fingers and traced the outer shell of Kirk’s ear.

 

Kirk broke away, and tried to focus his eyes.  “Are you having fun?”

 

“Indeed.  I intend on having more.”

 

“Oh, absolutely!”  Kirk stroked one pointed ear, and nibbled on the other one.

 

Spock inhaled sharply.  “ _Jim!_ ”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I believe I am..definitely having fun now.”

 

It got playful.  The touching, the kissing and the fondling slowly spread from the head, to the neck, and who knew collarbones could be so sensitive and erotic?  The two-fingered touching was so amazing, Kirk mimicked it, and found that either touching or being touched like that with a Vulcan was exquisite.

 

There was some rolling around, to discover new places to kiss and lick and caress, and of course, they both had to learn the delicate ballet of accommodating arms and legs and elbows and knees, all the while maintaining as much skin contact as possible.

 

It was fun and it was funny and it was very awkward and places got bumped and jabbed and then there was a thump.

 

And a crunch.

 

“OW!”

 

“Jim?”

 

“Ow!”

 

“Are you all right?”

 

“No.”  Kirk cupped his hand over his face.  “Oh, no….”

 

A small trickle of blood ran down his chin.

 

“ _JIM!_ ”

 

“Oh, doh.  Bodes is godda GILL be!”

 

“Perhaps it is merely bruised?”

 

“Doh.  I feld de crung.  Id broge.”

 

It took a while before they made it to Sigpay, uh, Sickbay.  First, they had to get cleaned up, and then they had to find clothes for the two of them, since their previous outerwear had gotten ripped and torn…somehow.

 

Finally, with a wet cloth applied to Kirk’s nose, Spock led his Captain to see Doctor McCoy.

 

“Jim, no, don’t tell me…”

 

“By doze is brogen, Bodes.”

 

Kirk settled on a biobed, with the head of it propped up.  Spock stood at his side, his hands folded behind his back.

 

“How did it happen?”

 

Spock shook his head, ever so slightly.  “Doctor…you do not want to know.”

 

McCoy raised his eyebrows.  “Oh.”  He ran the medical tricorder over Kirk’s face.  “You’ll need more intensive imaging done, but this is it.  The septum has to be completely reconstructed through open surgery.”

 

“Fug.”

 

“Yeah, you’re ‘fugged’ all right.  But on the bright side, if you’ve ever wanted a new nose, now’s the time to get it!  I’m gonna fetch the imaging hardware.  Don’t MOVE from here!”

 

After McCoy left, Kirk looked up at Spock.  “A dew doze! I lige dat.  Baby I shud ged a classig doze.  Or an arisdogradig doze?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why dot?”

 

“Do you consider our relationship to be long term, Captain?”

 

“Spog!  Yes!  I’b dinging ad lease forever, if nod longer.  Why?”

 

“In this relationship.  I possess the aristocratic nose.”  Spock looked around to make sure nobody else was nearby.  He leaned down and kissed the cloth-covered lump in the middle of Kirk’s face.  “Your nose is the one that is ‘cute.’”

 

 

 


	10. Cherish

"Okay, it’s  _fixed._   For the love of all that is holy, please don’t bump it, or crunch it, or get clobbered by anyone!  I don’t want even the pressure of you popping a damned pimple on your nose for the next six months.  Got it?”

 

“Got it.”

 

“And Spock, not only are you the First Officer of the ship, I’m making you Guardian of The Nose.   _You_  are to keep the Captain from any hazardous duty or dangerous situations where his nose may be threatened.  You got that?”

 

“Understood, Doctor.”

 

“Get out of my Sickbay.” 

 

On the way to the turbolift, Kirk asked Spock, “My quarters?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

Once inside the door, Spock framed Kirk’s face with his hands.  “Do not move.”  He then gently kissed him.

 

“Spock, I can’t go six months with no contact between us!”

 

“Nor can I.  But I have a thought about that.”

 

“I guess we both get naked before starting anything.”

 

“Jim…I shall handle it.”

 

Kirk smiled, and looked at Spock through slitted eyes.  “Oh?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

The corner of Spock’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t say another word.  With great care and deliberate slowness, he divested first Kirk, then himself of all clothing.

 

Kirk thought he was going to explode, and Spock merely raised an eyebrow.

 

They walked to the bed, and Spock placed Kirk on his back.  When he knelt between his Captain’s legs, Kirk began asking questions.

 

“Jim,” rumbled the velvet baritone.  “Silence.”  He bent over and began laving Kirk’s sex with his tongue, all the while keeping his eyes focused on Kirk’s face.

 

Kirk gasped and gripped the sheets, but didn’t say a word.

 

Once the erection stood tall and proud, Spock sat back on his heels and produced a tube from apparently nowhere.  Kirk had had lube applied to his cock many times, but he had never felt a lubricant quite like this one.  It was the slickest substance he’d ever experienced, and there was a very slight cooling sensation to it.  He gulped, yet kept his eyes locked on Spock.

 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Spock lowered himself on the slicked appendage.  The scalding heat of the Vulcan, plus the incredible muscular pulsing of his passage caused Kirk to climax immediately.

 

Spock seemed to know when the super-sensitivity passed, and then he began to rock his hips.  While doing this, he leaned forward and used the tips of his index and middle fingers to trace Kirk’s face.

 

Passion emblazoned across Jim’s body and he was aflame with sensation.  Spock’s fingers continued to dance over him, and he writhed.  This was an agony Kirk had never before experienced, and he became near mad with pure need.

 

Spock could see this, yet he offered no fulfillment.  Not yet.

 

He trailed the  _ozh’esta_ down Kirk’s arms, and then grabbed Kirk’s hands.  He placed them over his own erection, and guided Kirk to the stroking motions.  Once the movements were begun, he increased the rhythm of his pelvis, and positioned his hands on Jim’s psi points.

 

The meld exploded between the two of them.  Jim could feel Spock could feel Jim could feel Spock could feel…

 

The burgeoning sexual pressure of each was felt by both and intensified almost beyond endurance.  The pleasure was multiplied until it became exponential—

 

And it was too much to bear, and both came.  Spock turned boneless and collapsed on Kirk.  With the very last vestige of his energy, he rolled them both to the side and then tried to remember how to breathe again.

 

“Spock,” Kirk exhaled.

 

The corner of Spock’s mouth twitched upward.  “Are you having fun?”

 

“Oh, holy dancing gods and goddesses…”

 

“I cherish thee, Jim.”

 

“ _That’s_ the word: cherish!  I have never felt cherished like that before.”

 

“How is your nose?”

 

“ _What_ nose?  I completely forgot I have a nose.”

 

“So you approve of my suggestion?”

 

“Oh, absolutely!  What  _was_ that stuff you put on me?  I thought I knew every kind of lube in the universe.”

 

“A  _Vuhlkansu_  product, typically used during  _Pon Farr_.  A gamma-silicone compound blended with certain herbs.”

 

“Buy a freighter’s hold of the stuff.”

 

“I shall endeavor to maintain a supply of it.”

 

Kirk tucked his head under Spock’s chin.  “You put a lot of thought into this, Spock.”

 

“I have irrationally hoped for our union for quite some time.”  Spock could feel Kirk’s smile against his chest.  “In Sickbay, you said you expect our relationship to last forever.”

 

“I was wrong.  That’s not long enough.  After being cherished by you, I can’t be with anyone else.”

 

“I want no other.  I would bond with thee.”

 

A side trip to Vulcan was planned soon thereafter.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a wonderful ride with you, Dear Readers!
> 
> There will be some funny moments in the "Detectives" series, if you need some smiles.
> 
> I'm so glad everyone enjoyed this so much! Champagne and truffles for all!


End file.
